Chekov's Music
by TastesLikeSTFU
Summary: Lt. Chekov has an interesting, retro taste in music. Spock is intrigued, Kirk is perplexed.


Captain James T. Kirk walked swiftly to the bridge after lunch. His belly full of replicated tuna casserole.

The crew was free to do as they pleased, as long as they checked on whatever it was their uniform corresponded to.

When Jim sat in his chair and scanned over the rest of his crew, he found them at leisure. Even Spock seemed relaxed by a fraction. This mission was fairly small and  
>that was what allowed the crew to "laze about". Jim knew he should probably enforce the fact that they should be cautious- that at any moment this casual mission could turn deadly. But he didn't because he also knew that his crew was top notch. They could pivot from loose to tense and ready to fight in no time at all. The Nero incident had proved that. (From routine to war in less than 3 seconds).<p>

Jim observed the bridge crew's activities. Uhura was chatting animatedly about the antics of senior officers down on Starfleet's base on Earth with the Andorian at the other linguistics station.

Sulu was piloting and trying to read a datapad that was stilted against the break at the same time. Which he was failing miserably at.

Chekov was listening to something. He was wearing headphones that weren't Starfleet issued, but they were the good kind. The kind of headphones that shut out outside noise and kept loud music from disturbing the people around.

Spock was seated at his science station, his posture rod straight but his head bent over the screen; evidently reading something- sciencey.

Before he'd headed back to his captain's chair, he was chatting with Scotty and Bones. Bones thought one of the patients down in sickbay had some sort of parasite that was eating his eyeballs. Scotty was trying to modify the ship's transporters so they could beam to any Starfleet command center from at least a few hundred miles outside the planet's atmosphere. Jim had warned him to be careful or Starfleet would end up with an arm randomly lying on their transporter pad.

After Jim had recalled that conversation, he called sickbay and asked for a nurse to watch over Mr. Scott's development on his project. Maybe the nurse would be able to reattach a molecularly dismembered limb.

A few minutes ticked byand Jim noticed Chekov bobbing his head ever-so lightly. Just barely noticeable. So, he stood, walking over to stand by the ensign's post. He tapped the boy's shoulder.

"Yes, Keptan?" he pulled one of the head phones off of his ear. "What are you listening to, ensign?" at that question, Chekov blushed a little, "Slipknot, sir." He replied a little embarrassedly.

"That old metal band from like…2000?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"It-um-was my brother's faworite band in Russia. I liked it, so I began to listen to it."

Suddenly, from behind him they heard, "Fascinating," Jim turned and Chekov looked over the captain's shoulder. Spock was turned toward them now.

"What?" Jim asked, a little puzzled as to what was "fascinating" about a Russian whiz-kid who liked to listen to heavy metal when no one was watching.

"I know of that band. I came across it some reading of Earth's culture in school. I have never heard their music," he stood and walked to them, his posture just as proper and stiff as always. He held a hand out to Chekov, "May I?"

Chekov pulled off his headphones and handed them to Spock. The first officer placed the headphones on without hesitation, listening to the remainder of the song. When it was over, he took them off, handing them back to Chekov. "I could acquire a taste for such music," he said to their shock. And any other crew member whom happened to be listening in on the conversation.

"Tell me, do you possess anything by a band named "Green Day"? Or perhaps "Nirvana"?" Chekov, who was just as shocked as Jim, nodded. "I have digital files of both bands on my computer. In my quarters. Would you like me to send them to you?" Spock had said that he would appreciate.

"What other bands do you possess?" Spock asked in his ever stoic voice. Chekov listed a few and Jim was surprised that he liked some fairly old, albeit good, bands.

"I also have Korn, Wampire Weekend, and My Chemical Romance." The young ensign was saying. "Could you send me files of them as well?" there was a hint of curiosity in his first officer's voice, quite possibly brought on by the odd names of the bands. Jim blinked when his communicator bleeped. The nurse who had been assigned to Scotty had called to let Jim know that he had, in fact, lost a few of his fingers (god knows how!)

"Cripes," he muttered "Sulu, you've got the Conn." Jim rushed to sickbay to deliver Scotty a formal reprimanding as he was fixed by Bones. With one last glance at Spock and Chekov, he entered the turbolift.


End file.
